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- Джон Джон Бакен
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- Стр. 17/83
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Crouching
low
in
the
runnels
of
the
bog
,
I
ran
till
the
sweat
blinded
my
eyes
.
The
mood
did
not
leave
me
till
I
had
reached
the
rim
of
mountain
and
flung
myself
panting
on
a
ridge
high
above
the
young
waters
of
the
brown
river
.
From
my
vantage-ground
I
could
scan
the
whole
moor
right
away
to
the
railway
line
and
to
the
south
of
it
where
green
fields
took
the
place
of
heather
.
I
have
eyes
like
a
hawk
,
but
I
could
see
nothing
moving
in
the
whole
countryside
.
Then
I
looked
east
beyond
the
ridge
and
saw
a
new
kind
of
landscape
--
shallow
green
valleys
with
plentiful
fir
plantations
and
the
faint
lines
of
dust
which
spoke
of
highroads
.
Last
of
all
I
looked
into
the
blue
May
sky
,
and
there
I
saw
that
which
set
my
pulses
racing
...
Low
down
in
the
south
a
monoplane
was
climbing
into
the
heavens
.
I
was
as
certain
as
if
I
had
been
told
that
that
aeroplane
was
looking
for
me
,
and
that
it
did
not
belong
to
the
police
.
For
an
hour
or
two
I
watched
it
from
a
pit
of
heather
.
It
flew
low
along
the
hill-tops
,
and
then
in
narrow
circles
over
the
valley
up
which
I
had
come
.
Then
it
seemed
to
change
its
mind
,
rose
to
a
great
height
,
and
flew
away
back
to
the
south
.
I
did
not
like
this
espionage
from
the
air
,
and
I
began
to
think
less
well
of
the
countryside
I
had
chosen
for
a
refuge
.
These
heather
hills
were
no
sort
of
cover
if
my
enemies
were
in
the
sky
,
and
I
must
find
a
different
kind
of
sanctuary
.
I
looked
with
more
satisfaction
to
the
green
country
beyond
the
ridge
,
for
there
I
should
find
woods
and
stone
houses
.
About
six
in
the
evening
I
came
out
of
the
moorland
to
a
white
ribbon
of
road
which
wound
up
the
narrow
vale
of
a
lowland
stream
.
As
I
followed
it
,
fields
gave
place
to
bent
,
the
glen
became
a
plateau
,
and
presently
I
had
reached
a
kind
of
pass
where
a
solitary
house
smoked
in
the
twilight
.
The
road
swung
over
a
bridge
,
and
leaning
on
the
parapet
was
a
young
man
.
He
was
smoking
a
long
clay
pipe
and
studying
the
water
with
spectacled
eyes
.
In
his
left
hand
was
a
small
book
with
a
finger
marking
the
place
.
Slowly
he
repeated
--
As
when
a
Gryphon
through
the
wilderness
With
wingèd
step
,
o'er
hill
and
moory
dale
Pursues
the
Arimaspian
.
He
jumped
round
as
my
step
rung
on
the
keystone
,
and
I
saw
a
pleasant
sunburnt
boyish
face
.
